


Bedfellows

by SpyderScully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyderScully/pseuds/SpyderScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A classic fic concept—Mulder and Scully find themselves forced to share a motel room and—by association—a bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedfellows

Sleeping with Fox Mulder was not on Scully’s bucket list.

At least, it wasn’t something she had ever considered to be something she wanted to do before she died. But it looked like she was going to get her chance.

Now she stood patiently and quietly by as her lanky partner argued with the motel front desk at two in the morning. It wasn’t a question of lack of rooms, the clerk argued, but two of the three remaining spaces had yet to be cleaned, and owing to the late hour, the maid wouldn’t be in until the next morning.

"You can give me one of the dirty rooms," she heard Mulder insisting, "I don’t care."

The clerk was adamant. They couldn’t do that. Something about motel policy and liability.

Scully saw Mulder cast a brief glance in her direction, and unless she was reading him wrong, he was trying to read HER. She kept her face neutral, even as her insides were roiling. Sharing a room and mostly likely therefore a bed with this man did not strike her as particularly attractive, regardless of how much HE was so. She didn’t feel like having to pick up strewn clothes and brush whiskers from the sink basin - not because she felt obligated to clean up after him or anyone else, but because she was inherently Type A that way.

He’d probably be tickled to death by the arrangement. Now that the arrangement had arisen, she reflectively wondered why he hadn’t ever tried the situation as a tactic to tease her. “Oh look at that, Agent Scully—no more rooms. Looks like we’re gonna have to share a bed now!”

She almost smiled despite herself until she saw her partner’s face as he walked away from the front desk. He looked terse and uncomfortable and Scully suddenly felt inexplicably guilty. She had been mentally groaning over the idea of having to share space with him, but she was sure she’d be no picnic to room with for him, either.

They’d make the best of it, as they always did. They were good at that.

She reached out, silently offering to take her bag back from him but he shook his head, motioning with his shoulder for her to walk ahead to their room down the hall. No words or glances were exchanged as they stopped in front of the door, and the silence was already uncomfortable by the time Mulder set the bags down, unlocked their room, picked the bags up, and motioned once again for Scully to move ahead of him.

It wasn’t a bad room by any means, definitely not so when compared to some of the crap piles they had stayed in before. It was small but comfortable, with a walk-in closet, a well-lit bathroom, decent carpeting and one queen-sized bed.

"Well, this might not be so bad after all." Scully remarked, suddenly disgusted with the forced cheerful let’s-do-this-because-we-have-no-other-choice tone in her voice. Mulder grunted as he set their cases down. She cast another glance at him as he straightened. He didn’t look unhappy or angry, but he still looked tense.

"I’m sorry about this, Mulder." She heard herself saying, and was surprised by how intensely she meant it. He looked over at her as she stood in the middle of the room by the bed, her arms crossed and her expression morose. She was surprised when she saw a small smile touch the corner of his mouth.

"Ah Scully, don’t worry about it, it happens. I’ll just try to not throw my shirts around." He had pushed a teasing Mulder grin onto his face.

Scully felt a chill as she wondered for at least the fiftieth time since their partnership began whether they could read each other’s minds.

"You going to be able to sleep tonight?" She warmed at the genuine tone of his voice.

"I’ll be fine."

"You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor."

"Mulder, you have been driving all day. You are not sleeping on the floor."

"Do YOU want to take the floor? It’s such a lovely shade of red velvet and it sure looks cozy."

"We can both sleep on the bed, I’m fine with that as long as you are, too."

He nodded, but she noticed the discomfort she had spotted earlier at the front desk reappear in his eyes and the angle of his shoulders. She felt a little miserable again, but pretended she hadn’t seen his face.

"It’s too late to look over anything more tonight. Did you want to shower first?" He asked politely. The idea sounded so lovely to her, but he clearly needed it more than she. His hair was matted and his suit was lumpy from the many hours they’d spent in their little Neon. He looked positively wilted, and his expression said as much. Scully placed what she hoped was an obliging smile on her face.

"No, you go ‘head," she said generously, "I’ll get us unpacked and clean up around here a bit."

He nodded and stiffly made his way towards the little bathroom, silently shutting the door.

///

By the time the two of them had sloppily unpacked and showered, it was 3:30 in the morning, and drowsiness had ceased attempting to sneak up on them and instead decided to begin assaulting their dopey brains and aching eyelids. Neither said a word as they both turned down the bed, but Scully could feel Mulder’s gaze on her as she scrambled into the sheets, as if he expected her to take back her decision for him to share the bed with her.

"I’m sorry about this, Scully." He mumbled as he slid into place beside her. Apparently now it was his turn to apologize. She shook her head, a small but genuine smile on her face.

"It’s all right, Mulder," she said, reaching out to run her hand comfortingly down his arm, "I only mind as much as you do."

He still looked a touch uneasy, but his smile assured her that he minded very little, if at all. She could have sworn she heard him mutter “good” as he turned to switch the lamp off, struggling only for a few seconds with the radio clock for their morning alarm before he appeared certain it was set.

Bathed in smokey darkness, they settled deeper into the blankets, Scully gently curved on her side facing the side of the bed, Mulder lying on his back beside her, his arms slightly flared away from his hips and a good half foot between them. She could tell he was stiff as a board and would probably be just as obliging to share sleeping space with. She shrugged internally. This was a cakewalk considering some of the other uncomfortable situations that had previously found themselves in. She could cope with an uncompromising bedfellow.

She had just closed her eyes, trying to find a comfortable position on her pillow when she heard Mulder snuffling softly beside her. Her forehead creased with curiosity and and glanced over her shoulder to see Mulder sniffing the air, a similar look of questioning on his face. He paused to turn his head and their eyes met in the dimness.

"What is that?" He asked softly.

"What’s what?"

"That scent."

"That scen-? Oh." Scully cursed the vaguely shy note in her voice, "It’s probably my moisturizer. I can wash it off if it bothers you."

"No, no, it doesn’t bother me…" He sniffed again, "It’s just…it’s just different from what you…"

Mulder’s voice trailed off as if he had heard the increased rate of her heart. She turned away from him again to lie on her side, her eyes wide and darting in the darkness. If any other person had been “smelling” her—regardless of the intent, she would have been irritated, confused, and a little perturbed. But damn that man…the realization that his often inadequate skills in noticing the little things had just been proven inaccurate flattered her.

Yes dammit, against her better judgement she was flattered. She didn’t wear things like makeup or scent for anyone but herself, but the fact that Mulder realized when things were different from her norm touched her. He was so familiar and in tune with how she looked and acted (and apparently smelled!) he spotted when it was changed. She was vaguely disgusted with herself at this discovery, but she was also pleased nonetheless.

Mulder seemed to notice her discomfort, because the next thing she knew, the bed squeaked and shifted as she felt him turn to her, resting a strong, warm hand on top of her satin-covered arm, which was atop her side. Her eyes closed involuntarily and she felt her skin flush for reasons she wasn’t quite prepared to accept.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Scully.” His voice was gravelly and low in his throat in his usual Mulder-is-being-serious octave, “I just meant to say—“

“It’s fine, Mulder—it’s okay.” She interrupted, just wanting him to let it go. She was beginning to feel exhausted from the day they’d had and the way Mulder was pressing so close to her body was making sleep a possibility that was difficult to resist. At the same time it was exciting and wonderfully soothing somehow. What was WRONG with her tonight?

Instead of moving away to his back again like she had expected, Mulder let his hand drift down her arm until it paused at her wrist, her hand the only thing between his palm and her hip. Her breath hitched and she felt her body stiffen as he slid his hand under hers, nestling his body a little closer beneath the sheets. It wasn’t quite spooning, but his close proximity was the only possible cause of the little surge of warmth and nervousness that surged up Scully’s belly. She wondered if exhaustion had lowered her defenses and her usually natural inclination to move away, because this felt nice. So damn nice.

“Is this okay?” His voice rose tentatively from the darkness. Despite herself, Scully smiled and at her silence—and therefore what she assumed he assumed to be lack of rejection—he drew closer, draping his arm over her hip.

“Yes, Mulder,” she said drowsily, “It’s fi—…it’s okay.”


End file.
